


The Absence of Color

by TonyStarkIsARobot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pack Feels, artistic!Isaac, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyStarkIsARobot/pseuds/TonyStarkIsARobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac's always loved colors because colors express his feelings better than words.</p>
<p>Isaac decides to give the pack the only present he can - Art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Absence of Color

Isaac has always had a bit of a thing for colors.

With his home situation, Isaac quickly learned that he couldn’t use words to express how he was feeling.  
(Words led to questions and questions to investigations and investigations to his dad locking him in the  
freezer or adding a purplish bruise to his varying array.) But colors… Colors could mean anything and  
everything that he wanted them to mean without letting anyone in.

Needless to say, art class has always been his favorite.

But when he becomes a part of the pack, Isaac decides that art class isn’t enough. He needs to do more.  
He needs to let everyone know exactly how much they and their friendships mean to him but words  
have never been Isaac’s friend. He’s shy and a little awkward and sometimes he’s afraid of saying the  
wrong thing so more often than not, he says nothing.

Isaac’s gift (besides caring, loving and healing) is his ability to bring the colors to life. So he figures that  
he can bring color to their otherwise seemingly bleak world.

It starts with Scott: The first kid to look at Isaac like he meant something and the only one to tell Isaac  
he cares if Isaac is hurt. Isaac asks Scott what his favorite color is in the locker room after winning their  
latest lacrosse game, half expecting it to be something like brown because Allison’s eyes and blah blah  
blah.

Scott gets this sort of look on his face, like he’s been struck by lightning for a second and Isaac has this  
unusual urge to initiate physical contact (which he never does for obvious reasons) in the form of a hug.  
Instead, he just patiently waits until a sad sort of half smile spreads across his face – like Scott is living in  
a memory instead of in the locker room.

“Uh… I guess it’s probably like this coppery rust color, dude. Like an old penny or something.”

Isaac blinks. That’s an unusual color - even for Scott - and Isaac can’t help the soft ‘why’ that seems to  
escape the clutches of his tightly locked vocal chords.

Scott rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the personal level of the inquiry. But then he looks  
at Isaac (whose eyes are cast just below the level that would initiate direct eye contact with Scott),  
remembers who he’s talking to and sighs.

“It was the color of my dad’s truck. When I was a kid, he used to let me ride in the bed if I kept my head  
down. The thing was old and kinda useless but… It was his and even though he left my mom, he was still  
my dad, y’know?” Scott explains this with a faint reddish tint to his cheeks, giving Isaac the bitter taste  
of bile at the back of his throat because he understands what it’s like to have a father one day and then  
to have him disappear the next. Scott recognizes the bittersweet, uncomfortable look on Isaac’s face  
a second after he’s done talking and by then Isaac is already waving his sincerest apologies away and  
telling himself that copper is the first color he will pick up from the art store.

Besides, Isaac has another target in mind.

With the silent step that’s come from years of practice, Isaac makes his way through the sweaty, stinking  
bodies to Danny Mahealani, who is toweling his hair off. Danny’s the kind of kid that Isaac always  
wanted to be and even though they never really crossed social circles, Danny never snubbed Isaac. He  
always tried to answer whatever questions the quiet, curly-haired boy had without judging him and for  
that, Isaac was always grateful. Danny had always been a genuine, good guy even when his social status  
dictated that he should be… More like Jackson. Isaac likes Danny.

Danny smiles at Isaac with those two dimples that make Isaac want to beam his own subdued version  
of that beautiful bright expression. Isaac isn’t Stiles so Danny doesn’t get annoyed with him but he does  
look a little confused for a short second. Isaac thinks confusion is going to be a theme with this project  
of his.

“Hm… That’s a tough one. I’m going to say magenta. Not because of a stereotype or anything – well I  
guess sort of? – but it was the color of the shirt the first guy I ever liked was wearing. It sounds kind of  
stupid but I feel like that’s the color that got me to feel comfortable with myself. Why are you asking?”  
Danny’s explanation doesn’t sound stupid – at least, not to Isaac – because magenta did for Danny what  
art did for Isaac and for once, he gets that.

Isaac shakes his head as an answer to Danny’s question but he’s smiling to let Danny know it’s all alright.  
He feels bad for bothering Danny but he would never get the answer from anyone but Danny so… Isaac  
takes a deep breath and asks Danny about Jackson’s favorite color.

Jackson was never nice to Isaac. He never said anything about the way Isaac’s father treated his son  
and he never did Isaac any favors. But Isaac feels bad for Jackson because he knows how it feels to  
want nothing more than to be loved and to feel in control. Jackson acts like he’s this big, untouchable,  
insurmountable mountain but in reality, he’s a scared little kid hiding in the shell of an arrogant jerk.  
Isaac gets it.

Danny looks around, his face going serious in a way Danny’s face should never before he answers the  
question. Isaac assumes he’s making sure Jackson’s not within earshot. “His favorite color – and if you  
tell anyone this, we are never speaking again -” which Isaac knows is a lie, “is light grey.”

Danny sighs, having a debate with his inner self before continuing. But this is Isaac and everyone trusts  
Isaac so Danny continues.

“Jackson and I have been friends for a long time. When we were really little, the Whittemores told  
Jackson that they aren’t his real parents. Jackson freaked out like they guessed he would and he ran  
around the block to my house in the rain. When he knocked on my door he was shivering and in the  
middle of a meltdown. Keep in mind that we were like, seven. So my mom let him in and gave him  
a towel and some of my clothes and I grabbed this grey rabbit from my room. Jackson told me what  
happened and I gave him my favorite toy and told him what my mom told me when my kuku kane –  
Hawaiian for grandfather – died. They told me that he watches me through the rabbit’s eyes and that he  
couldn’t be more proud of me. Jackson still has the rabbit in his closet. And I don’t know why I told you  
that but if you tell anyone else, my art grade will suffer in the name of friendship.”

Isaac nods, knowing the fierce loyalty Danny has for Jackson and vice-versa – despite Jackson’s  
perceived inability to express anything other than irritation.

By now the locker room is empty and Isaac still has four more people to ask.

Boyd is the first person he asks because they live together (more-or-less) and Boyd isn’t all that hard to  
talk to. He doesn’t say much because he’s shy and sort of a loner but what he does say is usually worth  
listening to, at least in Isaac’s opinion. They’re pack brothers and Isaac knows Boyd will never replace his  
real brother but it’s close enough.

Boyd just stares at Isaac for a second, all serious and unemotional. “Yellow like the sun.”

Isaac asks Boyd to elaborate and Boyd almost doesn’t but then Boyd remembers that they’re pack no  
matter what stupid mistakes Boyd has made in the past and Isaac is the last person Boyd would ever  
want to upset.

“I spent lunch outside, even in the winter. Sunshine makes everything look more than what it is. Hair has  
different colors, snow is whiter and sunlight is always warm. So my favorite color is yellow.”

Boyd gets up and walks away, having said enough for Isaac to feel satisfied with his answer.

Erica comes next and Isaac keeps his distance because she can still be a little too volatile for his taste  
sometimes. She doesn’t look confused, just calm and pensive, like she’s skipped the curious step  
everyone else seemed to jump for first.

“You know the color of old pictures, the ones after black-and-white ones?” Erica asks, looking at Isaac  
expectantly. (He’s an art kid – of course he knows what sepia tones are). Isaac nods and she continues  
without any provocation – something Isaac appreciates. “Those colors because it’s kind of how we see  
when we’re wolfed-out. Before, when I had the seizures, I couldn’t look at certain colors because they  
set off my epilepsy so I had to glance around or keep my eyes on the ground. But seeing those yellowish  
colors makes me feel like I’m not so different anymore. Because I know that all of you see those colors  
– and the blues too, I know, but these ones are the main colors – and that makes me feel better. I know  
the colors I see are the colors you guys see too and I don’t have to worry.”

Isaac likes Erica because she’s direct, honest, and she doesn’t ask him too many questions. She’s like  
his sister and she may be scary but she’s never mean to him. She makes him feel like he belongs. Isaac  
couldn’t leave Erica out of the picture, even if he wanted to.

But Derek… Derek is going to be tricky. He doesn’t share things, even with his pack. Isaac knows that  
Derek feels like he’s at fault for a lot of things and that the second he opens up, someone is going to  
hurt him. No matter how hard they try, Isaac doesn’t ever think Derek will realize that he hasn’t just  
built a pack but a family.

Instead of asking Derek, Isaac watches him. He studies the clothes he wears and the cars he looks at the  
longest and the things that catch his attention when they’re running together on the full moon.

From the way Derek stares at dark blue cars, Isaac deduces that Derek likes blue. From his shirt choices,  
Isaac narrows that down to deep blue, like the navy and cobalt t-shirts he owns. It’s the way Derek  
howls at the moon, however, that leads Isaac to believe that Derek’s favorite color is midnight blue. It’s  
a color so dark it’s almost black but so blue it looks like the ocean when the right light catches it.

For Derek, Isaac doesn’t need to know why it’s his favorite color. Isaac won’t question his Alpha if he can  
help it.

His last target is going to be the most difficult to get an answer from but only because he talks so much.

Isaac will always count Stiles Stilinski as the most annoying person he’s ever met, but Isaac likes him  
anyways. He’s kind of like Scott because he doesn’t want to see Isaac hurt but where Scott doesn’t have  
a lot in the way of common sense, Stiles is intelligent. Like, really intelligent. Stiles also has a unique  
brand of showing he cares, which includes yelling at people when he knows they’re being stupid. Stiles is  
honest, funny, smart, and so much fun to scare.

Which is why Isaac takes a page from Derek’s book and sneaks into Stiles’ window.

Stiles comes in, yammering into his cellphone to Scott and doesn’t even notice Isaac. Well, not  
immediately, at least.

“I’m telling you, dude, Lydia smiled at me for like, twelve seconds today. I think I’m going to ask her  
to prom if I can get up the – OH MY GOD WEREWOLF IN MY ROOM,” Stiles yells when Isaac clears his  
throat.

Stiles jumps about a mile in the air and stumbles back into his wall. Isaac can’t help but giggle slightly. He  
can hear Scott yelling on the phone and Isaac gives the piece of technology a look.

“Scott, I’m gonna have to call you back,” Stiles breathes, ending the call. “Okay is this like, a thing you  
guys do on a regular basis because heart conditions run in my family and I might need new health  
insurance if you guys keep this up. Could you pass on the message? I mean, seriously dude, is it that  
hard to call beforehand or send me an email or something? Do you guys not have wi-fi in your broody  
wolf den of scary horrors?”

Isaac watches, amused, as Stiles paces his room, cellphone in hand as he rubs his hands over his buzzed  
hair. But the more Stiles rambles, the more Isaac becomes impatient so he growls slightly.

“Oh my Gawd, can you guys not do that to me at least half of the time because I don’t want to die,  
okay? I am too young and too good-looking to have an immediate death wish, especially since Danny  
and Scott won’t just tell me if gay guys find me attractive. It’s really distressing, okay?” Stiles rambles,  
missing the point of the growl.

Isaac interrupts with his question and Stiles stops talking – and moving, thank everything – for once.

“Well… It used to be black because hello, bat-themed vigilante. But then it was red because the hoodie  
I have I got for my sixteenth birthday and it’s awesome but it stopped being red when… On the night of

the Winter Formal because reasons. Then it was powder blue because of my beautifully motored baby.  
But now it’s kind of this… Forest green. It was the color of my mother’s eyes and it’s my dad’s favorite  
color so…,” Stiles shrugs and Isaac leaves, smiling at the idea of Stiles staring at his window with his  
mouth agape and floundering. No doubt he’s calling Scott and asking for an explanation.

Isaac has everything he needs now, though, having stopped at the art store with a bit of Derek’s cash on  
his way back to the train warehouse.

Isaac doesn’t ask permission. He just gets to work with his brushes and rollers and sponges on the  
biggest, emptiest wall the depot has to offer.

It takes hours of swirling strokes and abrupt flicks and spongy shoves before he’s done. Isaac is tired,  
hungry and about to fall over but his masterpiece – his gift to everyone – is finally complete.

It’s not an image of one thing and it has no shape. But the wall is covered with splotches of penny-like  
copper, swirls of t-shirt colored magenta, lines of light rabbit grey, oblique clusters of sunshine yellow,  
splotches of sepia brown and blots of forest green.

Smack dab in the middle of the beautiful myriad of his friends is a triskele in the deepest, bluest  
midnight blue color Isaac could find.

Erica and Boyd see it first, looking stunned and amazed, respectively. Boyd pats him on the shoulder.  
Erica gives him one of her rare, true grins and would never admit to the tears in her eyes, seeing that  
sepia color splashed so gently across the wall.

Scott sees it next, having wandered in to find Derek for something. His eyes zone in on the penny shade  
of copper and he swallows hard before grabbing Isaac in a hug that nearly sends him spiraling into panic.  
Scott hasn’t seen that shade of copper since the day his dad left and Isaac knows he still loves it.

With his camera phone, Scott sends pictures of the wall to the people who can’t see it directly, like  
Stiles, Danny and Jackson (he only has Danny and Jackson’s numbers because of lacrosse), who all blow  
Scott up with messages in varying degrees of wonder. (Not Jackson – he just asks what it’s supposed to  
be and why he’s supposed to care).

Derek’s the last one to see the wall and for a long second, he says nothing. He clenches his jaw, neck  
tight with tension, and folds his arms across his chest. His eyes shut and for what feels like an eternity,  
Isaac panics. Then Derek opens his eyes, nods at Isaac and quirks the corner of his mouth upward just  
slightly. Isaac beams because it’s the best he’ll get and it’s more than he could have hoped for.

Down in the left-hand corner, Isaac has left a piece of himself. It’s nothing fancy – just his initials written  
in the brightest white he could find. In physics, white is the combination of every color in the universe.  
It’s an infinite array of rainbows and spectrums and to Isaac, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world  
because it combines all of the people he’s come to care about, even in the smallest of ways.


End file.
